Halloween
by Ra'Zara The First
Summary: Let's let the demons run free on Halloween, right? Who wouldn't have fun on the day when you were allowed to be strange without being judged? However, even as little kids hunt for candy and older kids play pranks, something strange is going on in the Davenport home... (AU and OOC. Whole family involved. Rated T for cussing, demons, and so on.)
1. Chapter 1

**Hey…remember how I said that this would be a one-shot?**

**It's already 8,000+ words long and counting, so I decided to bust it up into a two-shot instead.**

**Which means that you now get this part first. Yay!**

**This part is about 6,000 words long. Get ready to sit a spell.**

**So, if you're new here, let's get this out of the way. This is AU. This is OOC. There's cussing and demons and the occasional lewd remark. If you haven't read the Hybrid trilogy – at the very least – you'll be way, way lost. **

**Anywho, let's get on with Halloween! **

**"****Original name there, Zara."**

**I will hurt you, Dougie.**

**So, who wants to do this? Bree?**

**"****Zara doesn't own Lab Rats or anything you recognize. If you don't recognize it, it's probably hers."**

* * *

><p><em>"<em>_When witches go riding, and black cats are seen, the moon laughs and whispers, "'Tis near Halloween!'"_

**Unknown**

* * *

><p><strong><em>Chase<em>**

You know what rocked about Halloween?

I didn't have to hide myself in public!

That was how I ended up in the middle of a supermarket with Tasha, my full demonic form displayed. She had been unsure about it, but when someone remarked on my "amazing prosthetics," she instantly calmed down.

"Chase? Mixed bag of Hershey's or a mixed bag of Nestlé?" Tasha was asking, snapping me from my thoughts and holding up two bags of bite-sized candy for me to inspect.

I smiled. She and Mr. Davenport were the only ones that called me by my name on a regular basis anymore. With everyone else, I was known by the nicknames I had gained a few months ago. I was used to answering to either "Hellcat" or "Half-Breed" now.

Those were better than "Chasey."

I perked my ears at both, my tail - rather, the half that was left - twitching thoughtfully. I honestly was just putting on a show for her. I gave zero fucks about what kind of candy a bunch of kids were going to be stealing from us that night.

Freeloading little welps, taking perfectly good candy for free. They should at _least_ have to dance for it or something cute like that. What was the point in dressing up little kids if they didn't do cute shit while dressed up, right?

Sometimes, I felt like didn't understand the world anymore.

_You could just eat the children. They wouldn't be confusing after that._

"Just get both," Leo groaned. He had been dragged on the shopping trip by his mother and was obviously eager to leave.

Why she forced him to come along was a mystery to me. Something about quality time? I mean, think about it: Who the hell bonds over shopping for candy? But Tasha was in charge - of _everything_ - so what she said was what went down.

Most of the time, anyways.

Tasha sighed, but held on to both. "Who stepped on your toes today?" she asked Leo, an eyebrow raised.

"Oh, I know!" I volunteered, raising my hand. "He's upset because Janelle rejected him." I clapped his shoulder, shaking my head sympathetically. "Just when you worked up the courage to ask her on a _real_ date instead of one of your little 'study sessions.' Tough break."

Leo glared at me. "For your information, she has to take her nephews trick-or-treating."

"Sure," I drawled, grinning cheekily.

"Be nice, Chase," Tasha reprimanded, glancing at me.

I looked as chastised as I could - having the ability to lower my ears and tail helped _a lot_ with that illusion - and sighed. "Yes, Ma'am."

"Mommy, look! A vampire kitty!"

Can I just say that the high-pitched voices of excited children don't mix well with bionic hearing? I winced as we all turned our attention to a young boy - he couldn't have been older than five or six years - who was pulling on an older woman's sleeve and pointing at me.

Well, I supposed he was right. Between my four sharp canine teeth and various catlike features, I supposed I looked rather like a "vampire cat." He had probably noticed the wings, too, but decided to rationalize it as part of the vampire thing.

"Actually, I'm a demon," I corrected with a smile. Because who would think that I wasn't in costume, right?

The kid's eyes widened. "_Awesome_."

His mother, however, reacted a bit differently. She pulled her kid away from me like I had threatened to kidnap him. "You should be ashamed," she huffed.

_This_ ought to be good.

"It's people like you - people who think it's okay to portray demons as if they're harmless rather than enemies of God and man - who are ruining the world! You need to repent and pray that God has mercy on your soul before he throws you into Hell! Your mother may have raised you wrong, but -"

_"__Excuse_ me?" Tasha interrupted, raising her eyebrow. "You do _not_ tell me how to raise my son!"

"Yeah!" Leo jumped in. "You don't know what she's done."

I threw an arm around Tasha's shoulders. "Just because you don't like me doesn't mean that you get to judge her. It's not her fault that I grew cloven hooves because I sold my soul to the beast below."

The woman stormed off, apparently indignant that we stood up to her. How _dare_ we defend ourselves against her idiotic rant, right?

After a second, Tasha sighed, rubbing her eyes. "We've been spending too much time around Douglas."

"Oh, come on," I reasoned. "She was _asking_ for it."

"Besides, Douglas would have probably scarred her obviously-fragile psyche somehow," Leo continued. "She got off _very_ lightly."

Speaking of, said bitch was approaching us again, clinging to her son's hand like I would eat him. Poor thing had to pass us again to find what she was looking for.

Probably "homemade" cupcakes for her overly-sensitive Bible-thumping comrades.

When she was walking by, she glared sideways at me. So, me being my glorious self, I leaned towards her with a massive grin and quietly hissed, "_Hail, Satan_."

This apparently aggravated my voice. _Who the hell is Satan?_ _ And _why _are you hailing him? You shouldn't be acknowledging anyone's leadership!_

I ignored the voice as Leo and I started laughing. The woman paled and hurried away. Tasha smacked us gently on the back of the head, but was smiling herself. "Stop scaring innocent civilians. Now, let's go. Douglas and Donald were playing with fake blood earlier, and I'm afraid to see what kind of mess I'll have to clean if they're left to their own devices."

* * *

><p><em>"<em>_Sneaky would be a lime-green Volkswagen. Nobody would suspect the assassins in the lime-green Volkswagen." _

**Adam Rex****_, Cold Cereal_**

* * *

><p><strong><em>Adam<em>**

Oly was standing on the part of the roof that hung over the door, her tail twitching thoughtfully. The small rhinestones on her wings reflected the sunlight like a dim disco ball, a sharp contrast to her gray coloring.

Adam crossed his arms as he watched her curiously. He glanced at Yahn, who was perched on his shoulder. "What's she doing?"

Yahn nodded towards her with a mischievous grin. "She's finding her perch for when kids come trick-or-treating. Master let her scare them last year. Most got a kick out of it, but some flipped out in the most entertaining ways."

"So Oly spends Halloween scaring little kids?" Adam asked, frowning.

"And their parents," Yahn added cheerfully. "It's a bit like a free haunted house."

"And Douglas is okay with this?"

Yahn let out a laugh. "Master likes it almost as much as the people Oly scares. Well, the ones with a sense of humor, anyways."

Adam nodded in consideration as Oly crouched down on the edge of the roof and spread her wings out, her mouth wide open as she seemed to freeze in place. If Adam hadn't known better, he would've mistook her for one of those gargoyle statues that tended to adorn older buildings in Europe. "So...that's all she's going to do? It's not that scary."

"She snarls at unsuspecting people," Yahn explained. "Almost like a curse is bringing her to life or something."

Oly finally broke her statuesque stillness, appearing satisfied. She grinned as she leapt off the roof, her wings beating to allow her to descend gracefully. "I hope someone drops their candy again this year. I like those little Bit-O-Honey things."

Adam frowned. "You don't eat, though. And isn't stealing candy from kids mean?"

Oly landed on the driveway, shooting him a look. "Kids can kiss my ass. If the brats want candy, they should hang on to it. And demons don't have to eat. Doesn't mean that I don't like some of your human food. Master won't get those, anyways. He says they're disgusting. And that I would get fat, like Yahn over there."

Yahn huffed and snapped his beak loudly, but that was all he did. Oly was right, of course; Yahn had a bit of a permanent paunch now due to Adam often sharing his snacks.

Adam smiled and scratched under Yahn's chin. "I don't mind." As Yahn closed his eyes with a grin, Adam nodded at Oly. "Tasha's at the store right now. If I ask her to get that candy for you, will you let the kids keep theirs?"

Oly's eyes widened. "You can do that?"

Adam nodded again.

Oly grinned. "If she brings it, the little brats can keep their candy."

Adam smiled at her. "You wouldn't lie to _me_, would you?"

Oly instantly nodded. "Yes. But I'm not lying this time."

Adam was a bit shocked by the honesty, but he was convinced now. It helped to be able to charm promises and truth from demons sometimes. He bent over a bit and offered Oly his arm, which she used to climb onto his free shoulder. She settled into a comfortable perch and poked his cheek. "Now get Tasha to bring me that Bit-O-Honey stuff."

Adam rolled his eyes, but pulled the phone out of his pocket as he started towards the door. With a text riddled with "pretty please," Adam asked Tasha to get Oly some candy. He conveniently left the imp's name out, but whatever. He couldn't even name somebody who liked that candy, so it wouldn't matter when Oly ate it all. As long as she wasn't stealing it from children, who cared?

He did want to see her scare a few people, though. It sounded like fun.

Adam opened the door while reading Tasha's response - Oly would be quite excited - and sent his thanks as he gently kicked the door closed. He slid the phone into his pocket before he finally looked up to see Ysthry curled up a bit on the jacket he had left on the kitchen counter by the caramel-covered apples Tasha and Leo had made earlier, licking blood off of her scales. The crimson marks were spattered all over her randomly, sharply contrasting with her dull, green-brown scales.

Adam instantly rushed across the room and scooped her up in his arms. "What happened?!"

Ysthry moved her tail around to get her balance before she settled down. "It's fake. Douglas, Donald and Bree got into a blood-slinging contest. That's the last time I take a nap around them." She started licking her scales again, obviously upset at having been caught in the crossfire.

Yahn ran his finger through a stain, dyeing it red. He licked it curiously. "Corn syrup and food coloring, all right."

Adam frowned. "That's it?"

Oly nodded. "Doesn't take much to make fake blood."

"Tastes worse than blood," Ysthry muttered between licks.

Adam nodded sympathetically. However, his curiosity was overcoming his caring nature. Especially since Ysthry was covered in proof that something fun was going on without him. "You said something about a fake blood fight?"

* * *

><p><em>"<em>_One of the common failings among honorable people is a failure to appreciate how thoroughly dishonorable some other people can be, and how dangerous it is to trust them."_

**Thomas Sowell**

* * *

><p><strong><em>Bree<em>**

She was frozen in place, clutching a small bowl close to her. The fingers of her free hand were dipped in the blood red concoction that the bowl contained as her eyes darted back and forth between Mr. Davenport and Douglas. Both men were in a similar position as her, looking like two snakes coiled to strike. They were paying more attention to one another than to her, but she was a bit grateful for it. It gave her an advantage.

Good thing that sibling rivalry still manifested itself between them.

Mr. Davenport looked like he had just slaughtered a cow. He had smears of blood everywhere, including a long streak that went from just over his right eye and ended just below the left corner of his mouth. Douglas was similarly marked, but the most pronounced stains on his face were the pair of parallel lines that he had drawn on both of his cheeks when war was declared, giving him the appearance of a particularly violent ruffian.

Bree was sure that she didn't look much better; she could feel the sticky substance drying where it had come in contact with her bare skin. Her clothes were likely ruined at that point. However, all of this was surprisingly far from her mind. This was the most fun she had had in a long time while making a mess.

And she had almost refused to help them make fake blood. She was glad that they talked her into it.

A slight movement from Mr. Davenport caught her immediate attention. He had shifted his weight a bit, his expression hard. Douglas was watching him more intensely as well, his eyes shining with cunning and cold calculation. It was a stark contrast to Mr. Davenport, who tempered his attack plans with a sense of honor. Unfortunately, Bree figured out about thirty seconds after the blood flinging began that Uncle Dougie didn't share the sentiment, even going so far as to say that honor was for idiots as he dumped one of the bowls over Bree's head when she turned her back to him.

As much as she wanted to scrub her sticky hair at the moment, she felt the desire for revenge burning inside her. And, by now, both had given her reason to target them. She had yet to make her move, but she would. She was faster than both of them, which she planned on using.

Not yet, though.

Not until the opportunity presented itself.

Mr. Davenport shifted his weight again, seeming to inch towards her. Bree didn't have to think twice to know that this was a decoy. He was trying to get Douglas to let his guard down.

Unfortunately, Douglas probably knew this, too. Worse, though, was that he started edging towards her now.

Bree fought the urge to back away. If both of them flanked her, then they would get much, much closer to one another.

It was exactly what she needed. She suppressed a smirk. Let them come.

Inch by subtle inch, they approached her, their bowls of fake blood held close. Her eyes darted back and forth between them, waiting for one - or both - to just charge. She saw them exchange a brief look before they focused on her again, their movements now synchronous. Somehow, they had lost interest in each other for a moment to take her on.

Bree frowned. Since when did they make an attack plan? Was it a spontaneous thought they had communicated silently? What happened to the petty, competitive rivalry they had displayed not moments ago?

Them being brothers was a double-edged sword, indeed.

_This might get interesting_, Bree thought, bracing herself a bit. She found all the escape routes she could, ready to fall back a bit if she had to. She wasn't losing this to a couple of middle-aged, self-obsessed men. _Especially_ ones that would gloat for days to come.

They steadily approached.

Bree just waited, trying not to look at her real target as she prepared to make her move. She didn't want to tip them off, after all.

The silent tension was broken by Mr. Davenport, surprisingly. He let out a wild cry and charged, fake blood flying from his fingertips as Douglas followed, his eyes wild.

Bree bolted across the room, scooped up some lengthy loose wires, and ran back to the brothers. She shoved Douglas towards Mr. Davenport before wrapping the wire around them multiple times, securing it with a knot. She then stood back, smirking at their temporary expressions of shock and confusion as they realized that they were tied together, back to back. The bowls they had been holding clattered noisily on the floor, the contents creating a crimson puddle on the tiles at their feet.

Bree almost laughed. There was almost nothing that would bother them more than being tied together.

_Almost_ nothing.

Bree tightened her hold on the bowl in her hands.

After a few seconds, Mr. Davenport started struggling. Douglas, however, burst into laughter that was borderline psychotic. "You evil, _evil_ little girl! I'm so proud!"

"Don't encourage her!" Mr. Davenport huffed. "We don't need any more trouble makers in this family!"

"Is this because of last week?" Douglas asked. "Because I understood that the jackass was asking for it."

While Mr. Davenport growled out a futile warning about Douglas' colorful vocabulary, Bree had to bite back a laugh at the memory of the event Mr. Davenport was referring to. She and Chase had gone out for frozen yogurt together - a bonding day, if you will, since Leo and Adam were working on their magic skills - but a guy had repeatedly made less-than-appropriate advances towards Bree. Chase had tolerated the guy when he was just talking - it got to the point where "fuck off" accented almost everything Chase said - but the peace was broken the second the pervert touched Bree's thigh like he had every right in the world to do so.

Mr. Davenport wasn't at all happy when the police showed up at the front door with Chase and Bree in tow and handed him a ticket that had been issued for Chase's reaction. Not that Mr. Davenport was pleased that someone had treated Bree in such a manner, mind you. He just thought that Chase breaking a chair over the guy's back was a bit excessive. It resulted in a two week grounding. It was supposed to be two months, but Douglas and Adam were quick to point out how much worse the situation would have turned out if _they_ had been there. At least the guy would recover from Chase's assault.

Chase had been banned permanently from the yogurt shop, but it was worth it.

Bree grinned before turning her attention back to her helpless victims. "I think I won," she gloated.

"You _cheated,"_ Mr. Davenport growled.

Douglas just scoffed.

Bree raised the bowl a bit. "Feel my wrath!" She then zipped forward, dumped the bowl over their heads, and bolted out of the Lab in less than a second with a loud whoop of victory as a devious smirk crossed her face. Behind her, loud cries of anger and lamentations about sticky hair echoed.

Speaking of sticky hair, Bree became painfully aware of how her own hair was sticking to her skin in various places due to the corn syrup that was drying in it. She pulled a face. It was time for a shower.

* * *

><p><em>"<em>_Laugh, and the world laughs with you. Cackle maniacally, and people back away from you slowly."_

**Unknown**

* * *

><p><strong><em>Douglas<em>**

Being tied up usually made him excited. Things tended to get exciting when one was helpless.

Even if it was in a bad way.

However, being tied to Donnie while fake blood dried on his now-messy hair wasn't quite as enjoyable as he would've liked.

Donald's elbow jerked slightly, catching Douglas in the ribs yet again. It hadn't hurt when he did it the first few times, but a bruise was starting to form that Don always seemed to hit. "Quit struggling," he snapped.

"I actually _want_ to get out of this," Donald huffed. "I don't see _you_ doing anything!"

"Because _I_ have a plan," Douglas informed Donald. "And, unlike yours, it'll work."

Donald finally went still. "Fine," he muttered. "But don't start whining when it fails."

Douglas rolled his eyes. However, he didn't respond. They stood still for a moment before Donald decided to speak again. "Your plan is to stand here?"

"Yes," Douglas responded.

"Why?"

"Because Adam's upstairs. As soon as he hears that we're making a mess down here, he'll show up. I give him a few more minutes," Douglas explained.

Besides, he could plot his revenge against Bree while waiting. No one got his hair sticky and went unscathed!

But what was a punishment befitting the atrocity she had committed? Burned at the stake seemed appealing. Douglas entertained the notion for a few seconds before dismissing it. He didn't want to hurt her.

Scare her, then? It _was_ Halloween, after all.

A devious smirk played on his lips as a vague idea formed in his mind's eye, growing more detailed with each passing second. He had almost forgotten how much fun plotting was.

Adam was practically running when he finally showed up, his eyes shining with excitement. He slid to a stop just inside the tunnel entrance, his breathing a bit heavy from the exertion. He glanced around at all the fake blood spattered across the Lab before he finally acknowledged the captives in the center of it all. "I missed it, didn't I?"

Douglas nodded while Donald tried to turn his head to look at Adam. "Can you get us out of here?"

Adam frowned. "I can't untie you. That would be against the game rules."

"What game?" Douglas asked, furrowing his brow.

"Escape Artist," Adam said slowly, rolling his eyes as if he had just been forced to answer the easiest question in the world because someone else lacked the mental capacity to do so themselves. "You're supposed to get yourself out of that."

Donald started struggling again. "Seriously, Adam?"

Douglas hissed through his teeth before he responded himself. "Try this game: If you don't untie us in the next ten seconds, I'll hit you upside the head with a baseball bat as hard as I can every time you start to fall asleep for the next month. Sound fun?"

Adam paled visible and practically bolted over. He snapped the wires in half easily and tossed them away with a nervous laugh. "Now you won't hit me with a bat, right?"

Donald smacked the back of Douglas' head before rolling his shoulders a bit to regain feeling. "Don't threaten them."

Douglas rolled his eyes. "Don't tell me what to do."

Donald glared at him.

"So the blood fight is over, right?" Adam asked slowly. "I can't make a mess?"

"I don't think this place can get any messier," Donald pointed out.

Douglas frowned. Sure, the Lab looked like the crime scene of a brutal murder, but it could always be messier.

Adam sighed. "So much for getting sticky."

Douglas almost snorted when the temperature seemed to drop several degrees, sparking an ominous dread in his stomach. He shivered involuntarily, earning strange looks from both Donald and Adam. However, just as soon as the temperature had fluctuated, it was back to normal. He waited a few seconds, but nothing else happened. _What the hell was that?_ he thought.

"What's wrong with you?" Donnie finally asked, frowning.

Douglas offered him a tight smile as the general sense that something was off grew stronger. Obviously, they hadn't felt whatever happened. "I'm fine." Maybe he was just imagining things. He could do that on occasion. Or someone was playing a trick on him. Either way, he couldn't swallow down the rising nervousness inside of him.

Something was wrong.

Something was very wrong.

Something was very, _very_ wrong.

Douglas ran his finger through some still-wet blood. "Let me help with that stickiness problem, Adam. Hold still." He ran his finger along Adam's forehead, thankful that his hands weren't shaking so that the lines were straight. After a few seconds, he finally stopped drawing. "There," Douglas declared, examining his handiwork.

Adam grinned. "I was hoping for something more fun, but I'll take it."

Donald, however, shot Douglas a confused look. "Why did you draw that?" he asked quietly.

Douglas shrugged and turned around, walking through the tunnel. He needed to get the corn syrup out of his hair. Besides, maybe taking a shower would help him shake the feeling that he was being watched. Until then, he hoped that Adam didn't wash his forehead.

* * *

><p><em>"<em>_The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown" _

**H.P. Lovecraft****_, Supernatural Horror in Literature_**

* * *

><p><strong><em>Leo<em>**

If he hadn't found Ysthry trying to clean her scales while Oly and Yahn sword fought on the counter with caramel apples - she had perched on his shoulder the second she saw him and complained about how no one ever respected the imps - Leo would've thought that someone had exploded in the Lab. Fake blood stained nearly everything, including Mr. Davenport. Adam wasn't messy - shockingly - but he had the oddest bloodstain in the entire room on his forehead: A pentacle.

Well, it wasn't really a bloodstain. Someone had obviously drawn it there.

Tasha raised an eyebrow. "Why is this place a mess? And why does Adam have _that_ on his forehead?"

"Have what?" Adam asked, straining to see his forehead. "What did Douglas draw?"

Tasha's eyes widened. "You let Douglas draw an evil symbol on Adam's forehead?"

Mr. Davenport quickly shook his head. "Never, honey. That's a symbol of protection." He shrugged. "I guess something made Douglas nervous."

"Guys," Adam insisted, "tell me what he drew."

"A pentacle," Ysthry answered. She then arched her neck expectantly. Leo rolled his eyes and rubbed her head with his index finger. Needy imp.

"What's a pentacle?" Adam asked.

"A circle with a star in it," Leo answered before anyone could overcomplicate it with symbolism and spirituality. It was just a shape, after all. He nudged Chase. "Right?" When Chase didn't answer, Leo glanced at him.

Chase was frowning, his brow furrowed as his eyes darted around the room, darkening and returning to normal repeatedly as he filtered through the planes. He stalked forward a few steps - his limp made the movement seem less intimidating - and froze, his ears pinned and tail lashing.

Mr. Davenport frowned. "Okay, what are you -"

Chase interrupted the question by snarling loudly and lashing out at nothing. He was still for another second before he bolted across the room, actually vaulting over the cyber desk before hiding behind Adam and glaring at the corner of the Lab with bared teeth, the fur on his ears and tail on-end and his wings extended a bit, as if he was trying to make himself appear larger. He let out a loud growl, a sound that never should have come from a person.

Even if they were half-demonic.

"What's wrong with you?" Mr. Davenport asked as Adam reached back and patted Chase's shoulder.

"There's a blurry thing" Chase growled, not taking his eyes off of the corner. "It keeps moving and whispering things."

This, of course, prompted everyone else to stare at the corner for a bit. Leo even squinted, trying to see whatever bothered Chase. Ysthry snorted after a second. "Those things show up every Halloween. They're harmless."

"What things?" Tasha asked, raising an eyebrow.

"It looks kind of like when the air is wavy over a hot road," Chase described. "But it's not heat waves."

"I don't care what they are," Ysthry said casually. She curled her tail around to lick fake blood off of one of the two stingers that adorned the tip. "They leave me alone, so I never bothered to investigate them."

"I still don't like it," Chase hissed as he peeked around Adam. "It's creepy."

"Speaking of creepy," Tasha cut in, her attention back to the mess now that Ysthry had basically declared that the room was safe, "this place looks like a slaughter house."

"Douglas and Bree started it," Mr. Davenport instantly responded.

"Where are they, anyways?" Leo asked, frowning.

"Probably taking showers," Mr. Davenport answered. He ran his hand through his bloody hair. "I should probably do that, too."

"After that, you three are going to clean this place," Tasha informed him, crossing her arms.

Mr. Davenport opened his mouth to protest, but Tasha's expression left no room for negotiation. Finally, he sighed. "I'll be back, then." He started for the tunnel, mumbling under his breath about injustice when Chase's head whipped from the corner of the room to the tunnel entrance. Mr. Davenport paused and shivered slightly before he continued around the corner, vanishing from sight.

Chase gestured broadly at the tunnel. "How is that thing harmless, Ysthry? You saw what it just did!"

Leo squinted at the tunnel entrance, desperate to catch even the slightest glimpse of what Chase was seeing. Meanwhile, Ysthry scoffed. "It just poked him. What a threatening action."

"Don't use sarcasm against me," Chase huffed. He spread his wings a bit more as he backed up a step. "I don't like that thing."

"It'll go away tomorrow," Ysthry reassured. "They always do."

Adam smiled at Chase. "See? She says it's nothing to worry about."

Chase nodded instantly, pulling his wings in to rest against his back and perking his ears. For a second, Leo wished he could have that kind of effect on something just by talking. Oh, well. Good looks were an excellent consolation prize.

Tasha eyed the tunnel entrance wearily before she gestured at Adam. "Let's get your forehead washed off. Besides, Oly and Yahn are probably fighting with the caramel apples again."

"Can I at least see what Douglas painted first?" Adam asked as he followed Tasha to the elevator.

"I guess," Tasha answered as the door slid open. "It's not that special."

"I still want to see it," Adam insisted before the elevator doors closed, leaving Leo and Chase alone in the Lab.

Well, alone with Ysthry and a squiggly anomaly that Leo couldn't see.

Leo rubbed Ysthry's chin. "Are you sure they're harmless little squiggles?"

_"Little?"_ Chase scoffed. "That thing is the size of a person."

"Harmless," Ysthry confirmed, stretching her neck out.

"Harmless or not," Chase growled, pinning his ears again, "I'm going to find out what it is."

"You have until midnight," Ysthry responded. "After that, you won't see them for a year."

"I won't need until midnight." Chase crouched a bit, his eyes narrowed.

"You're never going to catch it," Ysthry informed him.

Chase charged towards the tunnel, his limp more pronounced now - jumping over the cyber desk must have aggravated it - and swatted at thin air before roaring loudly and chasing the invisible thing around the corner.

"Did he just ignore me?" Ysthry huffed indignantly, growling a bit.

Leo shrugged. "He'll give up eventually."

Ysthry snorted loudly, still annoyed that Chase had completely disregarded her.

Stifling a laugh at her almost-childish behavior, Leo smiled. "Want to tear up an old shirt and bury yourself in the pieces or something?"

Ysthry leapt into the air, beating her wings to keep her flight at eye level. "Let's go!"

Leo rolled his eyes and followed Ysthry as she flew down the tunnel excitedly.

* * *

><p><em>"<em>_I was born on the night of Samhain, when the barrier between the worlds is whisper-thin and when magic, old magic, sings its heady and sweet song to anyone who cares to hear it." _

**Carolyn MacCullough****_, Once a Witch_**

* * *

><p><strong><em>Chase<em>**

I lost the damn thing upstairs.

I had taken too long to climb the stairs, I suppose.

I blamed it on Tasha for yelling at me to stop running through the living room while she wiped at Adam's forehead with a paper towel. Or Oly, who had sprawled out in the middle of the floor with her head buried in the bag of Bit-O-Honey candy that Adam begged Tasha to buy. Or maybe it was that the thing itself was fucking with me.

Either way, when I arrived in the hall, it was nowhere to be found.

_You're the worst hunter in history!_ hissed my voice.

I hissed in frustration as I went through the nine planes I could see and still saw nothing. It had shown up at plane three earlier, so what the hell? Things didn't just _vanish._

"I know you're here," I growled to no one.

Of course, no one answered. Still, I felt better for having said that out loud. I felt like trying to speak to whatever that thing was justified the dull throbbing that radiated from the scar on my leg.

Jumping over the desk hadn't exactly been the smartest move on my part. I could've gone around.

I sighed and leaned against the wall, closing my eyes to listen more closely to everything. If I were a blur, where would I go next?

Wait, that question was stupid. Why would a blur go anywhere? Blurs didn't just float around.

Except for the blurry thing that was floating around the house.

Shut up.

My ears twitched as footsteps sounded down the hallway. Light, rapid, almost gliding over the ground...

_Bree_, I finally concluded. Bree was walking towards me. I opened my eyes to see her down the hall, her head tilted curiously as she approached. "Tasha says that you have to help clean the Lab," I informed her.

Bree shrugged. "Easy." After a second, she asked, "Are Mr. Davenport and Douglas still tied up?"

"They were tied up?" I asked, frowning.

Bree's eyes widened. "You never saw me!"

"Before you hide," I said quickly, "I have a question. Did you check the planes and see a blurry thing up here a few minutes ago?"

"Near the bathroom," she answered. "I was honestly expecting Douglas to send Oly after me. Glad it was that thing instead."

I wanted to hear about that Douglas thing later. However, I had prey to catch first. "You didn't do anything about it?"

Bree shrugged again. "It has followed Douglas and Mr. Davenport around all day," she responded. "If it was dangerous, it would've done something by now. At the moment, I'm more concerned about Douglas plotting some revenge scheme against me."

I smiled a bit. "Why?"

"I poured fake blood in his hair," she answered. She glanced over her shoulder wearily. "You saw nothing," she said before she bolted down the stairs.

_To the bathroom, then_, my voice ordered.

I pinned my ears. _I can stay here all fucking day if I want to!_

_Then let the thing get away. It's not my problem._

Stupid little voice. Hissing between my teeth, I quietly started towards the bathroom. I was going to find out what that thing was if it took the rest of the day.

Considering that it was already 4:00 in the afternoon - and Ysthry said that it would vanish at midnight - I wanted to catch the thing as soon as I could.

The bathroom was still warm from Bree's shower when I arrived at the door. Even the mirror still had a layer of condensation on it when I flicked the light on, excluding a spot Bree had wiped clean in order to see herself. More important, though, was the shimmery blur that was just hanging out in the middle of that bathroom like it owned the place. I pinned my ears at it and growled as I cycled through the planes repeatedly. "What the hell do you want?"

The thing floated towards the mirror a bit. However, that was it. I stared at it for a moment. Seriously, what was its problem? Finally, I growled again. "Don't ignore me, asshole!"

The thing floated towards the mirror again.

I bared my fangs at it. "Are you fucking serious? Don't think for a second that I won't..."

Letters started to appear in the condensation on the mirror as if an invisible finger was writing them. I trailed off as I watched, backing up a few steps as words appeared.

_You wouldn't hurt me. Not that you could, anyways._

What the hell? I stared at the words for a bit, trying frantically to come up with an explanation to their existence. I didn't write it, so that left the squiggle.

Last I checked, squiggles didn't just write things on mirrors.

I swallowed hard, glancing behind me. "Very funny, guys," I huffed, half-hoping that someone would pop out and explain the elaborate prank to me. I glanced at the mirror again, now looking for some kind of projector or _something_ that could create the illusion of a writing blur. However, all I saw was my reflection.

Because the words were gone.

I looked around again. "Seriously, it's not funny anymore."

The only answer I received was my reflection staring back at me, eyes wide as hell when I saw a second reflection - a somehow familiar-looking stranger - beside me when I reached plane eight.

The man smiled as he raised a hand and started to write in midair. Slowly, words appeared on the mirror again.

_Hello, Chase._

* * *

><p><strong>Gonna have to wait!<strong>

**Mua ha ha ha! Go, cliffhangers.**

**What's going on in the bathroom with Hellcat?**

**And will Dougie get even?**

**Will Oly still steal candy from children?**

**Anywho, part two is coming soon, so be on the lookout for that.**

**I told you it wasn't going to be scary, didn't I?**

**So, until next time, feel free to read and review. Or don't. I don't care. xD**

**And, as always, enjoy.**

***Bows and exits***


	2. Chapter 2

**Here we are, guys: Part Two.**

**Because I don't want to keep ya waiting, let's just get on with this. **

**Thanks for reading/reviewing/existing. **

**Here's a bunch of virtual cookies. (::) (::) (::) (::)**

**AllAmericanSlurp:**** "I'm not a porcupine!"**

**Tennisgirl77:**** Yes, a cliffhanger!**

**Mia-Teresa-Davenport:**** "Your brother knows me so well. I'm flattered. :3"**

**gg180000: ****"What the hell?"**

**"****I don't know, Hellcat. I can't make heads of tails of this!"**

**Moonlit:**** Dougie won't get eaten.**

**RissA15:**** "See above porcupine statement."**

**"****And since when am I a baby gorilla!?"**

**So, who wants to find out what went down in the bathroom? Hellcat?**

**"****Zara doesn't own Lab Rats, Looney Tunes or anything you recognize. If you don't recognize it, it's probably hers."**

* * *

><p><em>"<em>_Revenge, the sweetest morsel to the mouth that ever was cooked in hell." _

**Walter Scott,****_ The Heart of Mid-Lothian_**

* * *

><p><strong><em>Douglas<em>**

Douglas ran his hand through his hair, sighing. It wouldn't stand up for a while since he had just taken a shower.

He _hated_ having his hair hanging in his eyes because it was damp.

Actually, now that it _was_ hanging down, it seemed a bit long. He should get a haircut soon.

Nah. It looked awesome as it was.

Even if it was styled wrong.

Blowing a bit of hair out of his eyes, he finally looked away from the mirror. After rationalizing whatever bothered him earlier as a natural reaction to having his hair messed up, he had turned his thoughts back to revenge.

Bree was going down.

He needed more information, though. Know your enemy, right? Where he could make Hellcat or Donnie squirm in seconds, he didn't know Bree well enough to pull off a simple - and somewhat sadistic - scheme. Sure, he had more complicated ones, but those would either result in her getting hurt - an option that was off the table - or him waiting for years to execute it fully.

So...who knew Bree?

He thought about this while heading towards the Lab. Adam and Chase would probably enjoy pulling a prank or two, but they wouldn't get personal enough. Leo wasn't one for pranking much. Tasha would just chastise him for asking. Donnie might help - he was a victim, too - but he might take it too far.

Douglas shuddered. Donald had launched Douglas into the air with an airbag one too many times.

So that left the imps. Ysthry was out immediately. She was a bit fond of Bree and told Leo everything. Oly and Yahn would have to be his partners in crime this time.

Speaking of Oly, Douglas almost tripped over her as he crossed the living room. She didn't even have the decency to pull her head out of the bag of candy she was devouring when he nudged her with his foot. He rolled his eyes and gestured at the bag. "Who got her this?"

Yahn stopped licking some caramel off of his tail. "Adam did to keep her from stealing candy from kids."

Douglas frowned. That was how he got candy last year. Sure, he could always buy some, but it was somehow sweeter when it was stolen. _Especially_ when the kids had gotten it for free. Fucking freeloaders needed to learn that life sucked.

Oh, well. Oly could still scare people.

Douglas picked her up - she snarled and kicked a bit in protest until he told her to stop - and held her in one arm while he picked up the bag of candy. He was glad that Tasha wasn't in the room at the moment. Oly had scattered candy wrappers everywhere. He glanced at Yahn. "When you're done doing whatever it is you're doing, pick these up."

Yahn grimaced, but gave a salute.

Douglas rolled his eyes and made his way down to the Lab, making sure to leave Oly's candy on the counter next to the caramel apples Tasha wouldn't let him help make. Something about family tradition for her and Leo to make them. Whatever. His would've been better.

When he finally made it to the Lab, he found Bree zipping around like lightning, rapidly cleaning up the fake blood. Which, of course, reminded him of why he made some in the first place. He put Oly down in a puddle. "Roll around some."

Oly instantly dropped to the floor and rolled like a maniac, covering herself randomly in the fake blood. After a few seconds, Douglas smiled and picked her up again. "You look scary."

Oly growled. "Can I go back upstairs now?"

Douglas almost said yes, but his eyes landed on a little pink phone sitting on the cyber desk. Douglas frowned. Since when did Bree put her phone down? She was usually glued to that thing.

Wait a second….

Maybe he knew more about Bree than he thought.

Douglas smiled a bit, whispering to Oly as Bree continued to run around. "I'm going to make a distraction. You get Bree's phone without her noticing and put it in my room. Then, you can go do whatever you want."

Oly winced, but nodded.

Douglas put Oly down and narrowed his eyes, thinking hard. What could he do that would be distracting enough?

Lucky for him, though, Bree distracted herself. She froze in the center of the Lab, staring at him for a few seconds before she dropped the sponge she was holding and started laughing.

Douglas furrowed his brow. "What's _your_ problem?"

Bree covered her mouth with her hand, her shoulders shaking. "You look like a hippy!"

Douglas was confused for a second before he had to brush some hair out of his eyes. Then, it clicked. His hair was laying down.

Great. Just great.

Douglas rolled his eyes. At least it was useful to have the wrong hair style for a bit. He tilted his head up haughtily. "Excuse me, but I _still_ look amazing."

"Wear a flower crown and tie-dye clothing," Bree giggled. "Maybe you can be a peace-loving guy for Halloween. _Nobody_ would think it was anything but a costume."

"I actually used to wear flower crowns as a kid," Douglas began, grasping at straws to keep her attention. He smiled a bit. "Belthane was a fun holiday. Dancing in circles around a fire with your friends and family, skyclad-"

"What's skyclad?" Bree interrupted, wiping away some joyful tears as she regained control.

Douglas smirked. "Completely naked."

His family had never observed that particular part of celebrating – clothing was nice to wear – but Bree didn't need to know that.

The frank statement had the desired effect. Bree suddenly went pale, her face twisted up in horror.

Douglas let himself smile easily. "Oh, yeah. It's quite liberating. Especially when a nice breeze is blowing."

"_Stop!"_ Bree screeched, covering her eyes like she was trying to unsee something.

This was too easy. "I think Donnie had the most fun those days. Always dancing around with his –"

Bree cried out, cutting him off. She rubbed her eyes hard, shuddering.

Douglas glanced behind her to see Oly snatch the phone and bolt down the tunnel when Bree wasn't looking. He grinned, already deciding what to do with the phone. He could piss her off for _days_ with it. However, now that Oly had escaped, he didn't need to bother Bree with "scarring" mental images. He rolled his shoulders and waited for her to look at him again. After a moment, she finally regained enough composure to look at him. "What's wrong with you?" she demanded.

Douglas shrugged. "Some people find self-confidence attractive."

"Not on you, apparently," Bree retorted, wrinkling her nose. "You're still single."

_Ouch,_ he thought. He frowned. "I'm single by choice, you know."

Bree rolled her eyes. "That's what they all say."

Douglas bit back his response. Someone _had_ wanted to marry him once, but he was long dead now. It was a devastating blow to learn that his fiancé had died, and it served as a harsh lesson as to why one had to be careful when building bombs. There was no need to revisit that with Bree, though. Let her think what she wanted. Instead, he tilted his head. "So, why are you cleaning the Lab so fast?"

"Because Tasha said we had to," she answered. "That includes you, hippy."

Douglas snorted. "She can't tell me what to do."

"We all know she's the boss of you," Bree responded.

"She's the boss of Donnie, maybe," Douglas defended.

"Who cares? We still have to clean this."

Douglas glanced around the Lab. "You already cleaned most of it," he pointed out.

Bree smirked, picked up the sponge, and threw it at him. "Then you and Mr. Davenport can do the rest." With that, she turned on her heel and sped out of the Lab, not even bothering to check for her phone.

Douglas threw the sponge from one hand to the other repeatedly. Very few bloodstains were left on the floor and walls. Luckily, Bree had handled the ones on the ceiling. He chuckled a bit before he decided to just clean the rest of the Lab. It would give him time to perfect his plan to mess with Bree's phone. He made his way to the bucket of soapy water Bree had left on the floor when he glanced at the little locked box next to Bree's capsule. He smirked. Hellcat's fingerprint lock probably wouldn't be hard to break through if he swung a hammer hard enough.

Giving Oly access to Bree's rhinestones would certainly add insult to injury.

Douglas felt much better now. How sweet revenge was.

* * *

><p><em>"<em>_You are terrifying and strange and beautiful. Something not everyone knows how to love." _

**Warsan Shire**

* * *

><p><strong><em>Chase<em>**

Have you ever been accosted by a blur?

Actually, you probably haven't. Humans can't see planes, after all.

So you'll just need to take my word when I say that is was definitely unnerving. _Especially _since I could only see the guy in the mirror. Beside me – even if I searched plane nine – he was just a blur. I pinned my ears and met his eyes in the mirror. "How do you know who I am? And why aren't you just talking instead of writing?"

_I tried talking in the Lab, _he wrote on the mirror. _You couldn't understand me. And why wouldn't I know who you are? I spend enough time around here to know who everyone is._

As the words vanished, I started to back towards the door.

The guy's face became desperate. _Wait! I'm not going to hurt anyone! I have to talk to you!_

"Why?" I asked, watching with some relief as the fog on the mirror began to fade away rapidly.

In the little bit of fog left in the corner, the man scrawled out, _Because I need to talk to my kids, and you're the only one who can see me._

Great. Bree and Douglas liked Medium, but I was the one stuck talking to someone no one else could see. Where was the justice?

_Please, _the man begged before the mirror was completely clear, destroying his only method of communication. He just fixed me with a pleading expression, looking ready to cry.

I found myself frozen by indecision by the door. I could just run and forget about whatever this guy was, but he just looked so upset. Wasn't I supposed to help people? And the fact that the guy looked familiar was bothering me. "I don't know your kids," I said slowly.

The man nodded vigorously, almost as if he was trying to refute me. He ran his hand through his hair, looking frustrated now. As his fingers caused his hair to spike up a bit, he looked even more familiar to me.

_He looks a bit like Douglas,_ my voice mused.

Holy shit! The small sentence struck me like lightning as I realized that the man reminded me of Douglas and Mr. Davenport. Hell, he even looked a bit like Adam and myself. I saw my eyes widen in the mirror. "Douglas and Mr. Davenport are your kids?"

Excitement lit up the man's expression as he nodded vigorously.

I stared at him in the mirror, utterly shocked. This man was Charles Davenport.

This man was my grandfather.

Where the hell were the bullet wounds? Wasn't he shot to death? Maybe injuries didn't stick around after someone died.

_Who cares who this guy is? _hissed my voice. _Swat him away. He's just a blur._

_A blur that wants to talk to his kids, _I responded. _But he can't because they can't see planes._

Charles frowned and made a writing motion in the air, glancing at me pointedly.

Oh, right! He wanted to talk.

I shut the door and skirted him before I turned on the shower, making sure that the water ran as hot as it possibly could. While we waited for the mirror to fog up again, I rejoined Charles in front of the mirror. He smiled and threw an arm around my shoulder, an action that I could only feel as a sudden temperature drop and see in the mirror. I didn't try to move, though. He probably just wanted to hug his grandkids. So, instead, I purred, which seemed to make Charles even happier. As the temperature rose in the room, though, I was glad for the general chill Charles seemed to radiate. We waited for the mirror to fog up, allowing me time to think up a dozen questions. Why was he here? _How_ was he here? Why did he want to talk to Mr. Davenport and Douglas? Wasn't he supposed to be a Charmer? If so, why wasn't I feeling the effects?

Actually, that was probably because he couldn't talk to me.

I rolled my weight back on one heel as the mirror started to fog up again. As our reflections began to vanish, Charles finally wrote something again. _Thank you for staying. I've been trying to talk to somebody for years. You're the only one who can see me so far._

I lowered my ears as the words vanished. "Yahn hasn't talked to you?"

_Ajiiyahn can't access enough planes to see me_, Charles explained.

I nodded. It made sense. I could only see Charles on the eighth plane and beyond. Yahn only had access to three or four. "That has to be lonely."

Charles' cursive writing ran across the mirror. _I'm only here on Samhain. The veil between the living and the dead is the thinnest at this time of year._

I frowned. "Samhain is...?"

_Halloween._

Oh...I guess that made sense, too. I perked my ears. "You've been following Douglas and Mr. Davenport for how many years?"

_Since I was killed,_ Charles answered. _About twenty or so years, I think? Time is a blur after you die._

I nodded again. "Why?"

_I need to talk to them. Keep up!_

Well, at least I knew where Douglas' impatience came from. I crossed my arms. "They can't see you."

_That's why I need you to talk to them for me_, Charles wrote.

"Since when am I a ghost whisperer?" I asked, suddenly feeling rebellious.

Even though I could see him anymore, I imagined that Charles had a condescending expression as he wrote, _Since you're the only one who can see me._

"Smartass," I growled.

_Show some respect, Chase. I'm your grandfather._

Chastised - by a fucking ghost, no less - I lowered my ears. "Sorry."

_Now, it's really important that you tell Donnie that it wasn't his fault_, Charles wrote.

"What wasn't his fault?" I asked.

_Douglas,_ came the answer. _Dougie turned out the way he did, and there wasn't a thing Donnie could do about it._

"Mr. Davenport doesn't blame himself," I pointed out.

_Trust me_, Charles responded, _he does. It's one of those bargaining things. You know, where he thinks that if he had done this or that differently, something would have changed._

I nodded. "Okay."

_Also,_ Charles continued, _you have to tell Douglas that what happened to me can't be changed by anything. Especially not terrorism._

"Question," I interrupted. "Did it hurt when you were shot?"

_A lot,_ Charles answered.

I winced.

_Also, you have to warn Dougie that something is coming_. Charles paused before continuing, as if he was searching for a way to phrase something. _I'm not allowed to tell you much, but I can tell you this: Tell him to listen to Yosemite Sam._

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" I blurted out.

_He'll know. That's all that matters._

I shot him - well, his blur - a look. "What if he doesn't?"

_He will,_ Charles insisted.

"Okay, so I need to tell Mr. Davenport that it isn't his fault and Douglas that he can't change the past and that he needs to listen to Yosemite Sam," I summed up. "Is that it?"

_Of course not,_ Charles wrote. _I have a lot to say to them. How proud I am that everything turned out all right in the end, how much my grandkids amuse me, how much I want to smack them both when they're being petty, and so on. I could go on for hours, but I won't. I'll have an eternity to say all of that someday. Your time, though, is limited compared to mine._

"Isn't everybody's?" I asked, tilting my head.

_Theirs more so than yours_, was the answer. _Where you have a couple hundred years left to live, they don't._

I frowned, lowering my ears. "I'm going to outlive everybody?"

_You didn't realize that sooner, little half-demon?_

I swallowed hard and shook my head. I just assumed that I'd live a normal lifespan.

_Don't look so upset_, Charles wrote. _Eventually, after everything is over, you'll rejoin everybody. You aren't immortal._

"That's better than nothing, I guess," I mumbled.

_That's the spirit!_ Charles encouraged. _Besides, you'll always have that voice in your head._

"I don't _want_ that thing," I huffed.

My voice - having been surprisingly quiet until then - decided to speak up. _You would be lonely without me to talk to, and you know it._

Well, I _had_ gotten used to talking to it. I'd probably feel like I lost a finger if it was gone.

Even if it _was_ a pain in my ass.

After a second, I perked my ears. "So, everybody goes to the same place when they die, right? Where is it?"

I could imagine the amused expression on his face that the foggy mirror wouldn't show me as he wrote, _One of the things that makes death an adventure is not knowing._

Damn. "What about evil people, then? Isn't there some kind of punishment for them after they die?"

_I can't tell you that, either._

Talking to ghosts _sucked._ Seriously, what fun was it if you got no answers about the other side? "Well, then can you tell me what happened to one guy?"

After a second, Charles wrote, _Who?_

"Victor Krane," I supplied. Sue me; I was curious.

Several seconds slid by again before Charles answered. _He doesn't think he's dead. He just thinks Soad has control. He's driving himself mad trying to regain control of a life that no longer exists._

"So you know him," I responded, more of a statement than anything else.

_I've been watching for years, remember?_ Charles reminded me. _Krane thought I was either Dougie or Donnie, I think, because he spent some time trying to kill me...again. Now, he's just trying to live._

I lowered my ears. I didn't think I'd ever feel sorry for Krane, but that kind of afterlife wasn't something I'd wish on anybody. "Is there something somebody can do to help him?"

_He'll have to come to terms with his death_, Charles answered. _He's the only one that can help himself now. He'll accept it eventually. They always do._

_He deserves eternal unrest_, my voice growled.

_No one deserves that,_ I thought back. After a long moment, I perked my ears. "What happens when I deliver your various messages? Do you disappear?"

_No_, Charles answered. _I'll still be around. It's the privilege of watching from another realm. I'll just have the satisfaction of knowing that they finally know what I've wanted to tell them for a long time._

I nodded. "Quick question about Krane again: Will _he_ be able to follow us around, too?"

_I don't know why he would torture himself like that,_ Charles wrote. _He wouldn't be able to do a thing to anyone. Just bother you in mirrors on Samhain._

"I don't want him bothering me on Halloween," I growled.

_Then avoid looking in mirrors,_ Charles wrote. I swear to God, the sentence accurately reflected whatever smirk he would be wearing.

I rolled my eyes.

As the old words disappeared, new ones replaced them. _You know that I'm proud of you, too, right? All of you kids. I never dreamed that I'd be related to superheroes!_

Self-conscious, I lowered my ears and started purring.

_Maintain your bravery_, Charles went on. _All of you will need it soon._

"Why?" I asked, frowning now.

_Later_, Charles wrote. _Right now, you might want to turn the shower off. I don't know how long we've been in here, but we've probably wasted a lot of water._

The noise of the shower was suddenly audible to me again. To be honest, I had completely forgotten about it. "Right," I responded, crossing the bathroom and turning the shower off.

_Now go tell them what I said, _Charles wrote when I looked back at the mirror.

I hesitated. Honestly, I still wanted to talk to him. He was my freaking _grandfather,_ after all. However, according to Ysthry, I had until midnight to speak with him. Besides, his blurry self was already drifting towards the door, so I was willing to bet that he wasn't going to talk anymore at the moment. He didn't even wait for me to open the thing. He just floated right through it.

What an annoying power that I totally wished I had.

When I opened the door to follow, I was actually quite surprised to find myself face-to-face with Mr. Davenport. He almost ran into me, actually. We ended up stopping just inches from each other in the middle of the hallway as Charles floated in the background like the squiggly thing he was.

Nice timing, ghost.

Mr. Davenport frowned at me. "Chase? You took a shower?"

I nodded immediately. It would be easier to explain that than to tell him what was actually going on.

"But you put your clothes from earlier back on?"

Okay, Mr. Davenport needed to stop analyzing shit.

I nodded again. "I didn't feel like changing," I offered lamely.

After several seconds of the world-famous Davenport scrutinizing glare – nothing could make me more uncomfortable than that look – Mr. Davenport apparently decided to drop it. "Fair enough."

"So," I began before he could say anything else, "what are you doing?"

Mr. Davenport gave me another suspicious look as he answered. "Trying to unlock Bree's phone. Douglas enabled the password lock and set his selfie as the background picture on the lock screen." He shook the little pink phone he held in his hand for emphasis. "I'm currently locked out for the next five minutes. Too many failed attempts to type a password."

I frowned. "Where's Bree, then? Shouldn't she be glued to your side?"

"Douglas let Oly into Bree's rhinestone box," Mr. Davenport answered. "Bree's trying to save her possessions from being defaced."

I nodded. That was a fine example of why one didn't mess with Douglas' hair.

Mr. Davenport sighed. "I swear, Douglas will never grow up."

I could practically see Charles gesturing wildly behind Mr. Davenport. It was like he was telling me that I had just be offered the perfect segue. Lowering my ears, I took a deep breath. "You know that it isn't your fault, right? How Douglas turned out?"

Mr. Davenport scoffed and looked down at Bree's phone, pretending to mess with the buttons. "Of course, it's not my fault."

I shot Charles' blurry spot a pleading look. Obviously, Mr. Davenport wasn't going to accept what I was saying. Why the hell did I have to do this? Charles, however, was floating steadfastly behind his eldest son, silently communicating that I had to try harder.

Damn it. Why couldn't someone else have gotten this job?

I covered the phone screen with my hand, causing Mr. Davenport to look at me with surprise and slight annoyance. "No," I growled, "listen to me. It's not your fault. There was nothing that you could have done that would have changed a thing about him, and you have to accept that."

For a long moment, Mr. Davenport just stared at me, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he nodded. "I know," he responded, sounding slightly relieved. "He always was stubborn."

I nodded and let go of the phone. "Speaking of Douglas, where is he? I need to talk to him."

Mr. Davenport gestured over his shoulder. "Spiking his hair up. If you can get him to tell you the password to Bree's phone, I'd really appreciate it."

I nodded before brushing past him. The sooner I got this whole messenger thing out of the way, the better.

* * *

><p><em>"<em>_You can be a daddy's boy or a momma's boy, but you can't be both. So you cling to the one you think you might lose." _

**Mitch Albom****_, For One More Day_**

* * *

><p><strong><em>Douglas<em>**

Fixing his hair was like sculpting a masterpiece. It took time, skill, and absolute focus to create a style so perfect, now that his hair had dried properly.

Which was why he nearly threw Chase out of his bedroom window when he kicked the door open. The noise caused Douglas to jump, which messed up a few of the spikes. Great; just when he was almost done. Douglas sighed a bit at the misaligned follicles in the mirror before he turned to acknowledge Chase. "Why did you kick my door open?"

Chase shrugged. "I was bored." He strolled casually across the room and sat on the bed, one of his ears flicking about randomly while the other seemed to trace a single path across the room. He tucked his half-tail close to his leg and leaned forward a bit. "So, here's a random question for you: Have you blown anything up lately?"

A random question, indeed. Douglas narrowed his eyes at Chase. "No, I haven't. Even if I did, it's none of your business."

Chase seemed unfazed by Douglas' statement, though. "You have to stop with this terrorist crap."

Douglas raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms. "Since when are you the boss of me?"

"Since toppling the government won't bring him back," Chase retorted.

"Won't bring _who _back?" Douglas asked, steadily becoming more annoyed by this game.

"Your dad."

Douglas hadn't been expecting that answer. He didn't know exactly _what_ he had expected, to be honest. It left him without a comeback, a feeling that he wasn't used to.

Seizing the opportunity that the silence provided, Chase continued. "There isn't a thing in the world that will bring him back. You're fighting a losing battle. You have to accept that he's gone." Chase paused, glancing at the mirror on the wall behind Douglas. "He's proud of you, you know. He's not always proud of your _actions –"_

Here, Douglas winced subconsciously.

"-but he's proud of _you_," Chase finished.

Douglas was at a complete loss for words. He stared at Chase for several moments, his mouth opening occasionally before he closed it again.

_He's proud of you, you know._

_He couldn't possibly be proud of me,_ Douglas thought, feeling a bit ashamed. Very few people were proud of their sons when they were repeat felons.

Chase leaned forward a bit, as if sensing Douglas' thoughts. "I promise that I'm not lying. You're just going to have to trust me."

How could Chase possibly know that his father was proud? It wasn't like he could ask. Charles was long dead.

Douglas finally nodded. Anything to get that intense look Chase was giving him to go away.

Chase stood up, nodding himself. "Oh, and you're supposed to listen to Yosemite Sam," he stated almost as an afterthought. "I don't know what that means, but you're supposed to."

Douglas furrowed his brow. Yosemite Sam? That old numbers station? The terrorist group that ran that one was apprehended by the FBI years ago. It was inactive, unused. Why the hell would anyone listen to it now? "Why?" Douglas asked slowly.

Chase shrugged. "Apparently, something big is coming." And, with that vague statement, Chase turned on his good heel and walked out of the room, his limp more pronounced now than it had been that morning.

Douglas stared after Chase for a moment before he finally looked back at the mirror. Good; he looked just as confused as his felt. To begin with, the general statement that fighting the government was just a way to bring his dad back was idiotic. He knew that nothing would ever allow him to see Charles again. He was fighting for the greater good against a corrupt system!

Wasn't he?

He ground his teeth and tried to think of a deeper meaning behind that sentence. And, to his immense frustration, he actually found none. No conviction, no drive, no burning reason that the government should actually be overthrown.

So…was he fighting everything and everyone just to fight? Was his underlying desire in all of this really just the fallacy that he could change the past by changing the future?

At least he knew that his father couldn't be proud of him. He hadn't accomplished jack shit that was worthy of pride. He had been in and out of prison for a while, built bombs for the sole purpose of terrorizing people, committed petty crimes, and so on.

_He's proud of you, you know._

What the hell was there to be proud of?

_You summoned Yahn,_ he reminded himself.

Hey, that was something! He could summon.

And he had three kids that were just flipping awesome.

There was something else!

He and Donnie weren't at each other's throats anymore.

A third thing! He was on a roll.

Douglas gave himself a half-smile in the mirror. Maybe he did have a few good things to show for his life. He imagined that the list was much longer than that – he was amazing, after all – but just those were enough for him at that particular moment.

_He's proud of you, you know._

Douglas grinned fully.

As for Yosemite Sam, Douglas would have to get his shortwave radio transmitter out to listen to it, and he just didn't have time at the moment. It was almost six in the evening, meaning that kids were about to start their candy stealing.

Douglas fixed the bit of hair that Chase had caused him to mess up before he went to his closet. If Oly was going to scare the shit out of kids, Douglas wanted a first row seat while wearing his favorite shirt. Why? Because why the hell not.

Too bad his favorite shirt was missing.

Douglas frowned and dug through his closet a couple of times before he decided that it must be in the washer or something like that. He started in the general direction of the laundry room to hunt for his missing clothes when he passed Leo's room and saw the most horrifying sight ever.

Ysthry was curled up on Leo's bed in a nest made from scraps of his favorite shirt.

Douglas narrowed his eyes, glancing around for the AWOL Leo. Tit for tat, bitches.

* * *

><p><em>"<em>_Just because someone's dead doesn't mean it's over. My grandfather died more than 25 years ago, but I still think of him a lot and smell his smell."_

**Julian Clary**

* * *

><p><strong><em>Chase<em>**

As it turned out, Adam's attempt to get Oly to not scare little children failed. She still perched on the roof, snarling at trick-or-treaters well into the night.

Well, she did until a kid popped her across the head with his bag of candy in fear. She went and hid indignantly after that, since no one would stop laughing at her. However, she did make up for breaking her promise to Adam a little bit by secretly giving Bree the code to unlock her phone.

Douglas forced Oly to be silent for an hour after that.

As for Leo, he got the joy of returning to his bedroom just to find that all of his white shirts had been thrown in the washer with one of Bree's red sweaters and run on hot water, which dyed all of them pink.

It was awesome to watch him go to bed in pink pajamas.

Tasha and Mr. Davenport ended up falling asleep on the couch together next to the bowl of candy that was supposed to be for the kids, but that Adam ultimately ended up eating himself. Needless to say, he was not feeling too well when he headed down to the Lab with Bree and Yahn for the night.

Douglas vanished to his room a bit after that, saying something about shortwave radio transmissions and Yosemite Sam or whatever. I still had no clue what the hell was going on with that.

As for myself, I got the joy of Oly's company for the night. She had fallen asleep on my pillow around ten, and I hadn't wanted to move her since she might have bitten me. Besides, I stayed awake until midnight, just reading a book across from a mirror. Charles didn't actually show up until a few seconds before the clock struck twelve. He had just enough time to smile at me and wave before he vanished completely from the mirror and the house, separated wholly from our world by another realm until next Halloween.

* * *

><p><em>"<em>_If you agree to work for us, half the time you won't know the purpose of your duties . . . and when we do explain, we might not be telling the truth. But that's the real world, folks . . ." _

**James Alan Gardner****_, Trapped_**

* * *

><p><strong><em>Douglas<em>**

_"Varmint, I'm a-gonna b-b-b-bloooow yah t'smithereenies!"_

Douglas pinched the bridge of his nose. He had been listening to that old Looney Tunes line for over an hour now. Even as Yosemite Sam repeated it, Douglas felt like Chase might have been messing with him in a way that happened to be coincidentally linked to the numbers station. Either that, or Perry threw cat nip at Adam and Chase got into it again. He tended to spaz out when that happened.

Whatever the cause of Chase thinking that Douglas needed to listen to Yosemite Sam threaten Bugs Bunny a dozen and one times in a row, it was certainly annoying.

Douglas was about to turn the radio off when something caught his attention.

_"Varmint, I'm a-gonna b-b-b-bloooow yah t'smithereenies!"_

_ "__7-5-9-1-2-4-8-3-0…."_

Douglas immediately grabbed a pencil and jotted the numbers down as a female voice read them off. Maybe Chase was on to something. Yosemite Sam was supposed to be an inactive station. No one should have been reading numbers on there. Had a new terrorist group taken control of it? Or was the old band getting back together?

He cracked his knuckles as the number sequence finally ended. Whoever it was, it was time for some decoding. He started to work out the meaning of the numbers – a slow, complicated process – as the station continued to play in the background as if no one had ever announced anything at all.

_"Varmint, I'm a-gonna b-b-b-bloooow yah t'smithereenies!"_

* * *

><p><strong>Well, that ending was certainly not the best, but it offered a bit of…say…mystery?<strong>

**"****Where are you going with this, Zara?"**

**We'll get there.**

**In the meantime, I feel that I should point out that the way I'm presenting the Yosemite Sam numbers station broadcast is inaccurate. The sentence only plays once an hour, and there are no numbers. However, since numbers stations are shrouded in conspiracy and no one has an official explanation for them, I will now use them for Hybrid purposes!**

**Which you do not know yet.**

**Anywho, that was the end of Halloween.**

**Not the best story, I know. :/ Oh well.**

**It does mean that I'm back on Hazy for the now. :3**

**Anyways, feel free to review. Or don't. I don't give a fuck.**

**And, of course, enjoy.**

***Bows and exits***


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